Dwale
She's never been too interested in other dragons. Most dismiss her as that "creepy travelling type" and leave it at that. They might buy her wares, or even give her a grimace that might be their approximation of a smile - but she's used to that. Created by Ròw. :3 Aspects A hunched-over SandWing who grew up too fast. With beige scales and paler underscales, Dwale could be an average SandWing - if not for her yellowed teeth and crooked claws, her terrible underbite and the fact that she's a mute, which has long since given her a sort of mythical status among the residents of the Sand Kingdom. To go into more detail - her teeth are all at strange angles, which makes it a bit difficult to eat and to close her mouth properly, and her claws (which are ochre) are chipped and gnarled, like the roots of a tree. The membranes of her sail and wings are tattered and sort of the colour of cream, though dotted with little speckles of chocolate brown and lighter mocha; her feet and tail bear similar markings. Dwale likes jewels and flowers, though she feels a little shy to wear them, and so keeps any accessories hidden in her rucksack, along with the scraps of parchment that serve as a makeshift journal. She's got a fiercely thin build and a serpentine neck, though she walks bowed, burdened with her wares - her face is angular, her eyes a glittering black, and her scales ravaged with scars. Tucked behind one ear is a broken eagle feather, which she uses as a sort of quill, though she's open to new writing utensils - this one's getting a little old. You can usually see her trundling along, hitched to a rickety cart and with a bag slung over her shoulder. Attributes She prefers to think of herself as a "realistic optimist." Dwale likes to be alone. When she's alone she gets to think, and when she thinks she doesn't have to worry about other dragons. She's caught up in her own world, her own imagination - a habit that's cultivated her hermit-like tendencies. She's also used to being shunned. And yes, it hurts. It hurts a lot. But she's given up on self-pity, because that never leads anywhere - just a lot of headaches and frustrations and grievances. She's also given up on friends and allies and families, because they all gave up on her. In fact, she's long since convinced herself that she's happy enough being alone, and so there's no one around to hurt her. Which, of course, is a lie, though it's a comforting one, because it gives her an illusion of independence. Dwale is a sensitive enough sort; she likes poetry and music, and will spend hours mentally composing songs to amuse herself - even going so far as to tapping the rhythms with her claws, which only serves to convince dragons of her derangement even more. She's also super shy and unpredictable. So approach carefully, please. Conversations with her are always a bit interesting. With you speaking, her scribbling away at parchment, it's bound to go somewhere - you've got to be a bit patient, as her writing's a little messy, and there's probably going to be a spelling mistake or two in there. It's hard to gain her trust, and once it's lost, it'll never come back. She might forgive you, might even drop a grudge - but that's it. She has memories engraved in stone, and she won't ever forget the wrongs done to her. As for her occupation, Dwale works as a travelling apothecary. She collects plants and stores them in a variety of ways, from boiling their ingredients into vials to drying them between the two slabs of a makeshift press. She depends on her knowledge for her survival, and it's dragged her through the years. Backstory Dwale never knew her parents, having hatched in the Scorpion Den, behind a pile of wooden boxes and forgotten leftovers. It had been nighttime, and so it was the glow of the moon that she saw first; of course, she doesn't remember that. It was so long ago... Three hours had passed when her mentor finally discovered her. He was a SandWing, too, but nobody knew his name: they simple called him "the Healer," and that was all Dwale ever knew him as. The Healer had been on his way from an inn, after the keeper had informed him that a talonful of apothecary goods wouldn't be enough for a place to stay. Desperate for at least some shelter, he'd spotted the stack of empty boxes and thought it better than nothing - then he saw the newly-hatched dragonet, squeaking feebly from a ringlet of egg shells. The first thing in the morning, the Healer sought out the nearby residents of the Den, asking if this SandWing dragonet was the daughter of someone they knew - the answers had varied from hostile to sympathetic, but they had all been given in the negative. So the Healer decided to adopt Dwale as an apprentice. Not a daughter: he wasn't a very sentimental dragon, and refused to let Dwale call him "Father," though he was still the closest thing she had to a relative. For the most part, Dwale's dragonethood nomadic, traversing across Pyrrhia. Two dragons travelling alone weren't very suspect, and so they could usually cross the borders of the kingdoms without too much trouble; so they collected wide varieties of herbs, from the peaks of the Sky Kingdom to the southernmost coast of the jungles. work in progress Acquaintances [[Sidereal|'Sidereal']] : The closest thing to her enemy. It was Sidereal who ordered the death of Dwale's mentor, after the two were caught across the border - Dwale was spared, if only because of her youth. She's cultivated a smouldering hatred for this MudWing ever since, and has vague fantasies of avenging the wrong done to her.Category:Characters Category:Females Category:SandWings Category:Work In Progress Category:Disabled Characters